Zoombified Book One The Big Apple Shuffle
by Cimiterie Bunnie
Summary: After nearly 35 years of terror and chaos, the world is finally settling into a segment of peace in the aftermath of a zombie Outbreak. Due to a miraculous serum that allows zombies to regain control of their actions, the Undead and the Living try to cope amongst each other. This is the story of one such Undead-Living Community known as Carthage City. . . .
1. Prologue

**At first there was darkness. . .**

**The scent of hard earth and the feel of cold wood. And then came the flicker, a light of clarity in the deep, shadowy realm of absolute quiet and death. This tiny crystalline glimmer was a single, silken strand shining brightly catching their eyes, showing them all that was. . .and all that would be. . .**

**That glimmer of light in the dark abyss promised them renewal, a greater feeling other than stillness and made the promise all the sweeter with hints of immortal power in a mortal form. There, too, was an allure, a truth that brought about a great hunger within them that only grew and grew. The mother of pure chaos was not fear, not evil, not even death-but this all new Hunger.**

**The craving for this was continual, unknowing; the shifting foundation of all. This Hunger was the knowledge that foretold every twist and turn that led to them clawing and breaking through the wood of their coffins, pushing themselves through the mounds of soil.**

**As one, they moved. After years of stillness, they were now more fully conscious to witness it all; bask in it all.**

**They could feel the pleasure of their awakening, the ambition in the Hunger.**

**It was that glimmer, that silk edge; the Hunger cut through the gray perpetual fog of that swirling plane, bringing a singular purpose to this creature and its whims reminding them that it was time-past due time. . .**

**Never taking their gaze off that glimmer, the horde climbed slowly, pushing themselves towards that strand. A rising horde of millions. . . The start of the beginning of the Hunger, and of the metamorphosis. . . .**

**The Midnight City**

**Chronicles**

**"****BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"**

**HUMANS & UNDEAD 1****ST**** ANNUAL FESTIVAL IN NEW TIMES SQUARE NEW YORK TO BE HELD IN THIS FALL**

**AUGUST 15, 2050**

**WRITTEN BY BRADLEY WALSH**

**In a matter of three weeks, it will be the 1st Anniversary since the rise of the Undead over 35 years ago.**

**For the first three years since their reanimation, the Undead ran amok throughout the world, causing chaos, panic and feasting on Living human flesh. It seemed that humanity was to be extinct to the dead, until Nigerian biological scientist, Murata Weiss, came up with a miraculous discover in 2017:**

** "****The dead are acting completely on psychological control. These are not the zombies from video games or movies. You can't just shoot them in the brain or cut off the head and think they'll stay down, the body will continue to move of its own accord until-without the necessities to feast-it will eventually starve to death. Many civilians learned this the hard way . . . The dead are already dead, so you ****_could _****cut off the head, but the body would still be moving, much like the headless chicken experiment. It was all about learning psychical control . . ."**

**Dr. Weiss, a highly proclaimed neurosurgeon of New York, had been home in Kano at the time of the popularized title "Zombie Apocalypse of 2015", and was forced to perform his studies in an underground bomb shelter that belonged to his family. He came to the realization that the Undead were feasting on Human flesh not for terror purposes, but for pure nutritional value.**

** "****It is the same way we as Humans need iron, carbohydrates, electrolytes, protein-all to live, to think, to communicate. The Undead lack these basic nutrition. . . Many who have been dead for years, and as a result their bodies desperately crave a replacement. Flesh and blood-living flesh and blood-is the perfect supplement.**

** "****The only problem is that we serve as a temporary cure due to the fact that the second we die, from their attacks, those charges are now rendered useless."**

**It also didn't help that Humans were capable of being changed either from a bite, through the transfer of saliva, a scratch; even dying without a single Undead-infected wound caused for one's body to be reanimated hours later. As the numbers of the dead began to outnumber the living, it became clear to surviving officials that something had to be done-and quickly.**

**After sending a message to surviving government officials in Bath, England, one of the many enclosed settlements found around the world in the protection against the Undead, Dr. Weiss joined with six other scientist to perfect a supplement that could serve the Undead of their needs, and even make them more docile. In 2021, Leviathan was born.**

**Leviathan was a serum made with triple of all the basics of Human needs such as calcium, various vitamins, iron and numerous of others in an easy to take liquid serum capsule that is injected straight to the brain through either the space beneath the skull behind the ear, the main artery in the neck, or the back of the skull. For many months, Leviathan was tested on Undead captured by military personnel, until finally-on November 19, 2021-success!**

**The very first Undead to be rehabilitated by Leviathan was Gayle Kogan, an Undead from Ireland who died at the age of 36 from a car accident in 1950, making him dead for 71 years. Under the watchful eye of military and the seven scientist (now called the Reaping Seven), Gayle began to make a wondrous change. And Leviathan did more than just curb the Hunger.**

** "****On Week Two, Day Ten-we began to see Gayle able to walk in the normal way that we do. . . By Day Thirteen, he was practicing speech and communication, learning how to reawaken basic movements such as the rotation of the head or the cracking of knuckles . . . Day Nineteen, Gayle is completely speaking at a perfect pace, in complete sentences. He has completely lost the shuffle of a zombie and is able to walk and run . . . He can even skip! Leviathan is a success we all laughed and cried in happiness!"**

**Over the next six months, Leviathan was distributed throughout the world. In June of 2022, the percentage of Undead rehabilitated rose to 3%; in August 35%; by December a shocking 85% of the Undead had been successfully altered by Leviathan.**

**Now, today, the Undead live amongst us as a second class of citizens. Many are able to hold jobs, go to school, and even own a home. And through the pill, Croix, a simple saliva retardant that is taken by the Undead orally, the Undead are able to bite, scratch, even kiss without infecting their Human counterparts.**

**There are some downsides to Leviathan, of course. Like the birth control pill or an antibody, Leviathan has to be taken by an Undead every 12 hours in order for it to stay effective. More than 38 hours without the dosage can result in a trigger in regression to the zombified Hunger and aggression. Result of the regression is the immediate utter destruction of that Undead civilian, and the safe and healthy disposal of its ashes as not to spread its deadly infection.**

**Another downside, though not all Living can become Undead, because it has yet to be learned just how Undead came to be, it is now stated under National Law that all Humans that end up deceased-whether by natural or unnatural causes-MUST be injected with Leviathan at least an hour after death, even if those Humans show no signs of resurrecting once so ever.**

**A third downside is that Leviathan has its limits. It seems that the longer a person has been dead before Reanimation, the less likely it is for Leviathan to take effect. The longest a body can be dead (according to records of FDA findings so far) is at least 50 years minimum; 70 years maximum.**

**Although FDA are trying to perfect a more simple way of using Leviathan and though government are still trying to learn just how all this took place, all is admirably peaceful around the world. Undead are even getting plastic surgery in order to appear more Living for civilian comfort. This is made easier through the new spray known as Chorlorfoam: created by multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company Gaude Enterprise (who also produce Croix) barely 15 years ago, Chorlorfoam is one of the highest selling medications amongst the Undead: A skin cell rebuilding spray that allows the Undead to build and refurbish their dead skin cells and even allow a healthy complexion and protection from rot, maggots, and damage from the sun's UV rays.**

**Living and Undead communities have learned to cope amongst each other. Of course, Undead (and even Living) contributors to the anniversary at hand have asked police and government officials for protection by security-and for good reason.**

**With the rise of anti-Undead hate groups, including the infamous Human terrorist group F.L.E.S.H., emails and death threat letters have been found in homes belonging to Undead or Undead accepting households.**


	2. Chapter 1 A Voice Calls

"**Stop thief!"**

** Civilizations throughout the world would call Gideon Loitier a troublemaker, a heretic, or even their favorite word-an asshole. The latter while holding their noses up and looking down at him with pure and utter disdain. But Loitier likened to call himself "trouble inept", not only for his intellect, nor for his survival skills amongst both societies and the wild lands of the city, but mostly because he saw himself as trouble-prone. A gift he wisely used now as he carefully hid his bag of stolen grapes, mangoes and bananas in the burlap sack at his side to be covered fully by his old dusty hooded cloak. He scuttled nervously to a nearby alley and into the shadows as the cry went up.**

** "Somebody help! Police! Thief! Thief!"**

**He quickly felt the alarm spread through the crowd as the bustling drew closer and closer. The wealthy civilians-the ones who only came to this side of the district to buy theirfood-placed their hands in a panic on their bags and craned their necks to watch in interest. Doors on the balconies above swung cautiously open; the brightly colored, silken ladies of the night leaned out of their windows and rooms to watch. The currently dull, tired eyes of the police force on the nearby corners suddenly flashed into unlikely alertness as the cry reached their ears. Loitier's heart pounded hard in his chest as his panicked gaze followed their trail, and suddenly calm overtook him. Flickering his eyes ahead of the Porte's authority and found the true source of the chaos in the crowd.**

** He breathed a sigh of relief. **

** Not him; least not this time. **

** "Thief! Thief! Stop her!"**

**She was just a little girl: a scrawny, bony little thing that was barely eight or nine. She moved like a monkey-graceful, without the slightest regard for gravity. She scrambled up a street vendor's stall, rolled through the wide open bars of a nearby porch and leapt right over the balcony to land perfectly on her feet on the concrete below. She vaulted onto the back of a nearby vehicle with a nervous driver inside to blare his horn and continued to fly away, using the heads of the surprised citizens in the market as stepping stones to the main street. The boulevard was loud, busy and bizarrely lit as usual with its large neon lights on this time of night. Perfect night for a run. The boulevard held at least fifty to a hundred dark holes in the alleys for a slip of a girl like that. **

** Loitier cheered silently. **

**He turned and looked towards the small café where his marks had been drinking in. They were gone, of course. The street rat had stirred up hell and the two suburbia men had not wanted to stay for the aftermath. Meaning they probably hadn't lost their wallets, either. Probably be better for him to lay low for a couple of hours instead of risking to go over to-**

** A throaty scream tore through his thoughts, followed by a loud thump. He turned back to the scene in the boulevard quickly, startled. Tires squealed into sudden halts, and just as everyone looked up and braced for it-the crash came. The mob surged toward the heart of the boulevard to get a better view, and Loitier allowed them to carry him along. He stalked through the sidewalks and found a lone brick wall to stand against and watch.**

** The little urchin was down, sprawled on her side in the warm mud beside the wrecked cars. Wild luck had kept the kid from being caught between the torn vehicles, but she'd been hit none-the-less. He could see it in the twisted, pained look in her youthful face and in the way her bare, long deep golden legs kicked wildly in the air. She rolled over and, despite the pain, brought herself to her feet and pulled herself upright to start off again. **

**The Porte's authority were too fast for her however, at least now that the sense had been knocked out of her. Loitier muttered a curse as a few people moved in the way of his view and he stood on tiptoe to see past the crowd. **

**A large, burly form of a male cop shoved past the bystanders and snatched the bulging camera bag off the girl's shoulders, handing it over to the rightful owner as he caught up beside them. The man squawked out his grievances to the crowd. One cop approached and listened reluctantly; the other burly man half-dragged, half-carried the young child back to the sidewalk and wrestled the little thing (which was quite humorous to see as the girl was only half his weight) up against a wall as he snapped his shiny, new iron shackles onto the girl's wrists. The girl's deep ebony, dread locked head flew up as the cuffs caught tightly against her small wrists. She howled out for help, cursing the obscenities at the law. That made Loitier jump in surprise. **

___**'How the hell are you getting out of this?' **_**he found himself absently thinking.**

** To his shock, as though she had heard him, the girl happened to look his way. Matter of fact, she seemed to look right at him . . . despite the shadows and the sardines of human bodies. Her baby face suddenly contorted with defiance and she bucked her head wildly up and into the burly cop's strong square chin. In anger, the cop struck out, his fist colliding with the girl's cheek.**

** Loitier stepped forward as the girl cried out, entirely on impulse, before wisely stopping himself. He remembered he wasn't allowed to harm Living life, and besides he couldn't risk to fight two policemen and reveal his nature in a crowd like this.**

_**'And really, why need to?' **_**he sneered, looking up and around for any sort of diversion . . .**

**There was a street lamp not too far away, with a string of cars below waiting patiently on red . . . simple. With everyone distracted by the commotion, it didn't take Loitier long to break open the control box nearby and simple turn them all to green.**

** A passing truck, small but heavily loaded with special valuables, plowed through two small sports cars as they crept into the intersection: the horrified truck driver at the wheel slammed on his brakes heavily and the vehicle began to skid down the road. One of the cars clipped another van on the rear end and shattered its whole backside, the broken pieces jutting into a nearby parked car and taking away the front bumper. The long metal piece fishtailed into the back tires of a passing bus, sending it sliding with sparks from the exposed rims into a street lamp, tearing it in half and throwing the passengers on board onto the raw, wet pavement. The front half of the bus sped on over the bodies and sparked its metal edges along the curb, striking civilians and food carts for more than twelve yards before stopping by crashing into a thick brick wall. The front half careened into the first-floor of a nearby restaurant, billowing thick, black oily smoke from its damaged engine. **

** Loitier chuckled. **_**'Little over exaggerated, but it'll do" **_**he thought.**

**The crowd dispersed into utter anarchy, some yelling and crying at the top of their lungs as they pushed to get away; some actually shoving through to see the accident better. The Porte authority had to struggle for their lives against the tide. In the mist of the chaos, Loitier started towards the thief and the burly officer. **

** One of the other officers tried to stop him with an outstretched hand. Loitier leapt forward and struck out with a quick fist, catching the woman officer in the jaw. Smoke drifted across his eyes and for a moment he froze. **_**'Smoke. It's only smoke!' **_**he scolded his tingling nerves. **

**Looking back, he saw the young girl dodging a blow of her own, the look of the burly officers face being one of pure stupidity as the girl twisted her arm out of the officer's heavy handed grip, right before the girl aimed a perfect kick between the officer's legs. The skinner officer was seen leaving to deal with the accident, brushing by-trying to fight through the crowd, shouting out warnings, threats. Then just plain shouting as he lost his footing in the crowd and fell, crushed beneath a wave of trampling feet.**

** At last, Loitier made it to the other side and was expecting to see the officer crumpled up over the wound of his tender parts.**

** It turned out the little thief had more trouble than he had assumed. **

**The burly officer was already back on his feet. The lucky bastard was able to grab the girl's skinny leg as she tried to kick again, and the pain in his testicles definitely hadn't improved his temper. The officer aimed a back hand to the girl's cheek and snapped the other end of the shackles around a stair rail that was anything but flimsy and weak, despite its common ornamental design and cheap screws set into the sandy cement. **

** Loitier sprinted through the crowd without stopping to think. He barged straight into the large, calm man in uniform. Bloodshot, angry human eyes locked with his own radiant hazel, startled ones and Loitier (though not gifted with clairvoyance) saw his own future flash before his eyes: the officer stood six feet tall, built like a bulldozer; face and body protected by a helmet that hid his face, thick leather and metal gloves, steel toed huge combat boots, wielding a large nightstick (and possibly carrying a gun, as ordered that all Living officers still carry the weapon full to the clip and learn how to execute perfect head shot). This behemoth was about to thrash him within an inch of his proverbial life.**

** Too late now, as many times in the past, he wished he had thought before he acted, minded his own business, lain low and leave well enough alone. **

**Instead, he flashed his eyes into bright white, hoping the officer wasn't too mad to notice. Loitier gained a few seconds worth of astonishment to maneuver and he swiftly snatched the nightstick away, striking the big bruiser against his legs and ribs. As the cop sagged, he aimed a cross kick between his helmet and the nape of his thick neck, sending the beast falling to the ground in an unconscious thud. Laughing manically, feeling surprised and unusually chivalrous, Loitier stepped over the officer and fumbled with the shackle on the railing. **

** "What the fuck are you doing, stealing in a crowded area like this, huh you little moron?" he demanded. Silence as the girl merely stared at him in astonishment. "Hey, I'm talking to you, dumbass! What are you deaf?" Still silent. "You know what, forget it," he groaned as he went back to breaking the shackles. "As soon as I get you out of these, I want you to go home. You hear me? Disappear until you learn better, and I don't ever wanna see your scrawny ass here sg-"**

** He stopped midsentence as his fingers snagged the cuff and he gave it a tug, sliding the other end into view to see it attached to-nothing and no one but the other end of the railing. "Again. . ."**

**Loitier stared at the spot the girl use to be stupidly.**

** Just then, a pebble dropped on his head. **

** He looked up to see that cherub, dirty little deep gold Asian face smirking sweetly down at him from the roof's edge high above the streets. For a moment, the girl smiled with just a touch of gratitude-and then she was gone.**

** "You little bitch!" Loitier yelled. "See if I ever help you-!"**

** The officer at his feet moaned slightly as he came around. Loitier kicked him square in the ribs and stalked away helplessly. **


	3. Chapter 2 Gaelock

**Loitier stood in the doorway of a cheap bar he really had no business in, but desired to kill time in, waiting for the opportunity to leave without being noticed, when his little urchin came into sight. He recognized her immediately. It had been three months since the incident at the market, but there was no doubting that little golden cherub face. Without looking at him, she passed by, picking her way carefully among the trash and sewage in the street for food. Loitier leaned out in curiosity to watch her. She turned the corner, swaying gracefully with her little hips. **

"**Stupid kid," he mumbled under his breath in annoyance. She was out at night again, even deeper into this filthy district than the first time he'd seen her. There were no tourists or cops here, only the lowest of the low: crooks, whores, pirates, prostitutes, street rats and thugs-once kin to Loitier in his youth. He debated just leaving, going home and pretending that it was nothing-because in truth he didn't know anything about the girl. Instead, he beat his hand on the brick, spun on his heels and made his way hastily outside. He hopped across broken bottles and trash in his sandaled feet, sprang out for a couple of blocks before stopping just four feet from her in an alley drive, and stood there, glaring.**

**The girl stopped short, staring at him with the same defiant glare. She blinked in absence, her brown eyes bright, and then started to walk around him.**

"**The hell's your problem?" her little voice squeaked, like a kitten barely matured.**

"**I should be asking you the same thing," he barked. "A kid like you can get killed in an area like this. What are you doing here?"**

"**It's none of your business, freak," she retorted, but her glance dropped to the ground. Loitier felt himself lighten up a bit. He could feel her fear . . .**

_**'Tough kid.' **_** Then again, to live in an area such as this, she would have to be to survive. Calming down and sighing, he tried to reach her with his words. "Come on, little sister," he said softly. "We'll go someplace safer. I know you're hungry, right? Let's go get you some warm food and a place to sleep." Loitier placed a hand on her small shoulder. Up close now, he could see the layers of ruddy brown marks all over her pink, **_**Hello Kitty **_**shirt and light blue Capri-pants. **_**'She looks like she hasn't bathed in weeks,' **_** he thought pitifully. **_**'She must keep them for sentimental reasons . . . where's her family?' **_

"**Look, not everyone in Gavinporte is as nice as me. This isn't the kind of place for a pretty baby like you. Let me take you somewhere safer, all right?" He gently grasped her wrist, and she didn't pull away or scream.**

** Loitier felt a touch of pride in himself. This was a **_**good **_**thing he was doing. He had been lucky to have someone steer him away from the wretched life he lived when he was just about her age, now he was returning the favor. **_**'If he hadn't come into my life, I might not had lived as long as I had,' **_**he thought briefly-shaking the chilling thoughts from his head before any of the memories could occur to him.**

** On the other hand, he remembered the ridicule and taunts he had to live through in his first early years of living in the Church, the constant cat calls of 'Whore's Bastard' . . . Who's to say the Church would even allow him to bring her in. Hell, she might not even want to stay herself. Still, it was worth a try at least. **

** Annoyance began to spark a sense of altruism in him. Virtue was really going to cramp his style, he thought to himself as he tightened his grip. **

** "Forget it. I'm taking you home," he told her sharply, irritated by his momentary sense of duty. He half-turned to lead her out the alley.**

** Only the single sharp breath in his ear served as a warning. Before he could react, the girl twisted half-way out of his grasp. **

** Loitier was faster than the cop, however. In truth, subconsciously, he had been expecting her to retaliate. He whirled around and locked both hands on the girl's bony arms. She bared her teeth angrily, clutching up her other hand in a tiny, pathetic fist, and hit him square and hard in his jaw-**

** But it was she who gasped in shock. For someone so lively looking, his jaw was dry, hard and cold. **

** She looked him in his eyes now for the first time, gaping at him, realizing there was something wrong-but not able to comprehend what it was. Loitier gulped in nervousness. The fear, the wonder, the questions-all was seen in her eyes. He remembered then one of the reasons why he hated going out in public.**

** He had grown sick of seeing **_**that **_**look; that same damn look like the ones from his old teachers, his so-called friends, his mother's . . .**

** And then, which was far worse, the girl's expression changed to that of one who completely understood. Just like that, she knew what she standing next to. He swore under his breath. He was a real, full-blood Gaelock Droid, a special series of Androids created from the corpses of the Undead mixed with a special brand of nanobites distributed by the government during the early trials of Leviathan. On the outside they looked all human, but their bone structure was fifty times stronger than any metal component and liquid nanos flowed through their veins instead of blood. They had been originally created as Undead super-soldiers to protect against the Undead and the threat of terrorists in 2020, but many of them were able to escape in their early phases of new life to adopt new identities and try to live close to human lives. And every Undead knew full well that feasting on a Gaelock Droid's blood was a step in suicide.**

** Loitier took a quick look to either side. No one was watching them-yet. He spun her around, pressing her back to his chest as he lifted her from the ground, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Of course she tried to fight, kicking those damn long legs all over the place and flaying her arms this way and that. He twisted her right arm behind her shoulder blade, near the point of breaking. She still fought a little, and even managed to open her jaws wide enough to bite down in the space between his index finger and thumb. Loitier pulled free, but lost a good chunk of his flesh to her teeth. He tightened his hold on her and lifted her as high up as he could, and continued in dragging her along through the alley. **

** His sandaled feet fumbled over a slippery patch of water (or what he hoped was water). Loitier realized, a little too late, that by carrying her in front he couldn't see where they were going. After a few more steps, his foot caught on the hem of his coat and he stumbled. Tripping, he lost his hold on her and she broke free from his grasp. She didn't even bother to scream. Instead, the skilled little urchin did a perfect back flip. Loitier landed on his front in a large puddle of water, wet, enraged and disgusted as the scent made it clear that it was not water, indeed. He'd lost control of the situation, and an even bigger problem-of the girl . . .**

** He heard her feet pounding away as she ran out of the alley. **_**'Damn brat, go home!' **_** That idiot should be home, like a kid ought to be. Hell, he thought, maybe he's scared her enough that she wouldn't come anywhere near this place ever again. Loitier wiped the muck off his face and got to his feet. All this would be worth if it she just learned to keep the hell out!**

** The image of his own grandmother rose in front of him as her footsteps became faint: of her gathering up the young children before the fire place, telling stories of what she had seen as a small girl. Small girls, just like this one. He smiled in reverie. Maybe this little one would spin a good yarn for her own grandchildren one day . . .**

** Of course, who would really know what to do about it . . . More importantly, who would believe her . . **

** Loitier bolted for the other end of the alley.**


End file.
